


we let our shadows fall away like dust

by starrydrowse



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Brian May, But with a happy ending, M/M, Make up sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:00:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22040743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrydrowse/pseuds/starrydrowse
Summary: When he brings a hand up to cup Brian’s cheek, Brian lets him. He thumbs over Brian's cheekbone and Brian’s eyelashes flutter, a shaky sigh spilling from his lips. Roger slots their lips together and kisses him, soft and chaste.“Is that okay?” he asks. They’re so close that their lips brush when he says it. “Will you let me show you?" He pulls back, just enough to search Brian’s eyes. He finds them, for once, difficult to read.*Or, Roger has never been great at apologies. Sometimes words can only say so much.
Relationships: Brian May/Roger Taylor
Comments: 23
Kudos: 99
Collections: Maylor Week





	we let our shadows fall away like dust

**Author's Note:**

> my contribution to maylor week!! it's a little late but really is anyone surprised anymore? the prompt i chose was "make up sex" and yes this is straight up porn sooooo enjoy!
> 
> as usual, thank you finn for helping me out with this and hyping me up!! ily ♡ (check out their [tumblr](https://get-on-your-bikes-and-ride.tumblr.com)/[ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachydeacon/pseuds/peachydeacon)!)
> 
> title is from you are enough by sleeping at last

“I’m sorry.”

It’s whispered in the quiet stillness of the room, the weight of it heavy on Roger’s tongue. Brian sits on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched as he stares down at the floor. Roger presses his cheek to Brian’s arm, feels the warmth of him through the fabric of his jumper. It’s scratchy against his cheek. “I’m sorry,” he says again.

The window is open, and the breeze is cool against Roger’s skin. The sun is setting slowly, hanging low on the horizon, the skies painted in shades of orange and pink.

“I know you are,” Brian says finally. His voice is soft, hoarse, like he’s gone days without uttering a single word. Maybe he has, Roger thinks, and he tries to count back how long it’s been since this first started. He’s gotten so used to the quiet. How long has it been since that heavy thing first settled over their flat, an uneasy stillness so fragile that even the slightest whisper might shatter it.

“Let me show you,” Roger whispers. His nose brushes the line of Brian’s jaw. When he finally meets Brian’s eyes, Brian doesn’t look away. 

God, Roger’s missed those eyes. Brown and green like moss growing on old trees, bright and warm like honey in the sunlight. Roger thinks maybe he can see some of that familiar warmth in them now, somewhere behind the hurt and the ache. When he brings a hand up to cup Brian’s cheek, Brian lets him. He thumbs over Brian's cheekbone and Brian’s eyelashes flutter, a shaky sigh spilling from his lips. Roger slots their lips together and kisses him, soft and chaste. 

“Is that okay?” he asks. They’re so close that their lips brush when he says it. “Will you let me?” He pulls back just enough to search Brian’s eyes. He finds them, for once, difficult to read.

Brian swallows around the thickness in his throat. “Yeah,” he says, quiet, like he thinks if he speaks too loudly he could break whatever delicate truce they’ve managed to achieve.

Something aches in Roger’s chest. He kisses Brian again then, warm and sure, now that he knows Brian won’t run. He kisses him insistently, and after a long moment Brian kisses him back. His lips move tentatively against Roger’s, and Roger sighs into his mouth as he’s overcome with just how much he’s missed this, how much he’s missed _him_.

Brian kisses him hesitantly until something else inside him seems to win over, his hand coming up to hold Roger’s jaw firmly as his kisses suddenly turn hungry and desperate, like he can’t hold himself back from how much he _wants_. Roger matches his pace, lets the kiss turn hard and biting, opens his mouth before Brian even has to ask and lets him in to taste. He lets him take control, if only for a moment.

Because he knows Brian— knows what he likes and what he needs better than anybody— knows that Brian is aching for Roger to take control right back from him, and so he does. He tangles a hand in Brian’s curls and slips his tongue into his mouth and feels Brian positively melt into him, feels the gentle vibrations in his chest when Brian moans so sweetly. Roger kisses him and he refuses to part, keeps their lips locked together even as Brian shifts back on the bed to lay down properly, Roger following him down, slotting himself between Brian’s legs. Brian surrenders himself as easily as he always does— always so willing, always so trusting that Roger will take care of him, that Roger knows what he needs, even now. It makes Roger’s heart ache.

He rucks Brian’s jumper up and pulls it over his head and then he gives himself a long moment just to _look_. It’s the first time he’s been able to freely look at him in what feels like years, and Roger drinks in the sight of him— all pale, soft skin against their light coloured sheets, flushed pink from high up on his cheekbones down to his chest. Brian lets him, for a moment, and when Roger finally meets his eyes again, Brian reaches up to curls a hand around the back of Roger’s neck, pulls him down to kiss him again.

The rest of their clothes are shed quickly and the lube is retrieved from the top drawer of the bedside locker. Roger opens him up with slick, gentle fingers, until Brian is loose and relaxed underneath him, soft sounds and quiet hitches of breath getting caught in his throat with each careful movement of Roger’s fingers. Roger would be embarrassed by how hard he is so fast just from the sight of Brian and the sounds he’s making if it hadn’t been so bloody long since their last shag he honestly can’t remember it.

Finally, _finally_ , Roger starts to push inside, and it almost knocks the wind out of him, how good it feels. Brian is all tight, slick heat around his cock, hot and familiar, his legs shaking where they’re wrapped around Roger’s waist, and Roger has to focus very hard on not coming before they’ve even begun, burying his groan in the crook of Brian’s neck. Brian shifts under him, his eyes squeezed shut, and Roger leans in, kisses the quiet sounds of discomfort from Brian’s mouth until he feels him relax under him, until his breathing evens out and he whispers against Roger’s lips, “come on.”

Roger sets an easy sort of pace; slow, lazy drags of his cock that have Brian whining softly with each thrust, his blunt nails digging into Roger’s back. Brian rocks his hips down, moves with him, and it’s only a few minutes later that he’s whining quietly in the back of his throat and asking so softly for _more, please_ — only ever asking. 

Roger gives it to him. How could he not? 

He speeds up just a little, starts fucking him properly, and Brian gasps, his head tipping back, the line of his throat stretching deliciously. 

“Yes,” he breathes.

He’s the picture of sin, laid out there on the bed under Roger, his face screwed up in pleasure, moaning so prettily. He clings to Roger tightly, like he can’t get him close enough, and Roger buries his face in his neck and breathes him in. Brian’s curls tickle his forehead and Roger is dizzy from just the feeling of being so close to him again, so connected, moving as one; dizzy with just how much he missed this. He presses his lips down into Brian’s neck, tastes the salt on his skin, sucks a mark just below his jaw at that spot that never fails to makes Brian’s toes curl.

The curtains are rustling with the slight breeze from the open window, the sounds of evening traffic drifting in from stories below. The sun has slipped below the horizon now, casting the room in pale light, all shades of gray. Roger barely notices any of it because Brian is hot and tight like a vice around him, moving with him, and Roger feels like he’s drowning in it. Brian is moaning, thin and filthy, and Roger can’t help but kiss him. He kisses him hard, puts everything he has into it; every _I’m sorry_ , every _I love you_ , every _I can’t stand the thought of losing you_.

Brian knows. Roger knows he does. 

He says it all anyway; whispers it against his lips. Brian looks up at him with bright eyes and the first real smile Roger has seen in weeks, warm and crooked and so real it makes Roger’s chest ache. Brian reaches for his hand, grabs it tightly and doesn’t let go.

The pleasure builds, slow and easy, all warmth pooling low in Roger’s stomach, making his rhythm falter. Brian answers his breath of _close?_ with a nod, curls a hand around his own cock and tugs, until his body tenses under Roger and he comes with a gasp. Roger follows quickly, tumbling over the edge with a breath of Brian’s name. 

He pulls out carefully, lets himself fall onto the bed beside Brian. He almost doesn’t expect Brian to cuddle into his side, lay his head on his chest, and when he does Roger really thinks for a moment that he might cry. He runs his fingers through Brian’s hair and listens to the steady sound of his breathing. When he whispers _I love you_ into the quiet of the room, barely a moment passes before he hears it back, spoken softly from Brian’s lips like a promise. Roger holds him a little tighter. 

They’ll be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> comments temporarily cure my depression so if you liked this please consider letting me know!
> 
> come talk to me on my [tumblr](https://starrydrowse.tumblr.com/) :)


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